


Étoile

by Palabun



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Pre-Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:48:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palabun/pseuds/Palabun
Summary: Each year Starlight brings hope, cheer, and sometimes miracles to the people of Eorzea. Within the pages ofHeavenswardG'raha Tia learns of this venerated Ishgardian celebration and how the Warrior of Light helped spread its blessings abroad, and manages to salvage a single memory of the holiday after his awakening to try and feel some connection to that warmth in times gone terribly bleak.Sadly, there is no hope on the path he has chosen.Lonely and depressed after forty long years on the First with only a painful death to look forward to, the Crystal Exarch has given up on averting the Eighth Umbral Calamity. Instead, he plays the part of beloved leader while plotting for the day he can use the aether of the First's inhabitants to send himself, the Warrior of Light, and the Crystal Tower back into the Rift until the Ascians' plotting has concluded, for better or for worse, without sacrificing more of his body to the unrelenting crystal. As he celebrates another Starlight on the First with only his trinket for company, however, a friend he never knew he had brings him a gift he never knew he wanted - is it simply an aid for his journey, or will it be a true Starlight miracle?
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch & Original Character(s), G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch & Warrior of Light
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story will contain the "Étoile" chapters from _What Your Heart Can Bear Home_ , but as a separate fic so anyone who doesn't wish to read through all that story's chapters (or deal with the rating) can read this piece separately. Both this fic and _What Your Heart Can Bear Home_ will be updated simultaneously until this comes to its end.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

No matter how many times G'raha cracked open the books penned about R'yhuven by Muirenval, the vibrancy of the Warrior of Light's personal life always made for welcome reading. He could never tire of them - it had already been over forty years since he uncovered _The Loves and Lives of the Warrior of Light_ , and he turned to the series again and again, every detailed page a bastion of solace in the turbulent storm of G'raha's emotions.

Today he read while awaiting the results from his latest model regarding using the people of Norvrandt to fuel the Crystal Tower's return to the Rift bearing G'raha and R'yhuven alone. There were adjustments needed to compensate for the Light-charged properties of everything on the First - once they were worked out G'raha could begin calculating exactly how much of Norvrandt's populace would need to be sacrificed, and how to bring them all to Lakeland.

As G'raha snap shut the day's reading, breaking the illusion he attended R'yhuven's final Starlight concert, the cheerful notes pouring from R'yhuven's harp and the audience's cheers after each piece nearly audible to G'raha's ears, he queried the time. "Two hundred hours already. Happy Starlight then, I suppose," he sighed at the silent tomes scattered around him. Something rustled on a nearby shelf, but a brief examination revealed it to be no more than a figment of his imagination, same as the other times he had perceived strange noises or misplaced items around the Tower. _Every day I grow more weary, this is only natural._

The Umbilicus' doors closed behind him soon after, shutting out the piles of books, plans, and a single holiday decoration G'raha had salvaged during his time in Ishgard hanging from a hook on the wall. Count Edmont's _Heavensward_ held details on how the Warrior of Light helped spread the Ishgardian traditions of their Starlight celebration across Eorzea, making G'raha desperate to recover some remnant of what the holiday had once been like.

By a stroke of luck, before fighting overtook the Fortemps Manor he found a small snowman ornament in the basement. Upon his return to Mor Dhona Drisette teased the trinket's existence out of him, and they snuck supplies from her camp to throw themselves a makeshift Starlight celebration for two. That memory was one of his fondest after his awakening, and before the day passed he would indulge in it via simulation. _My own tradition, forty solitary years and counting._

Out in the Ocular time on the Source continued to move past the scrying mirror's surface at a crawl. When G'raha still felt optimistic about saving the First he spent all his free time planted in front of the glass, intently observing R'yhuven make history right before his eyes. Nowadays he only peeked on rare occasion - his main 'interaction' with the device was a spell set to alert G'raha of any changes in the time difference between the Source and the First.

Thoughts of the snowman weakened his resolve, however, and he put a hand to its surface, the irrational disappointment G'raha knew he would feel at it not being Starlight on the Source adding to his exhaustion. The model had been calculating for a week, exacting a gradually increasing toll on G'raha's aether he could easily negate with sleep.

Unfortunately, his demons ran _much_ faster in the dark.

Facing Chessamile and her bitter potions was a far more palatable prospect. Casually, he exited the Ocular, unable to stop the faint hitch of breath that always accompanied the application of his glamours. As a precaution G'raha made it so that if the magic obscuring his face and keeping his hood pinned upright was missing, or his tail or ears were still enabled, it would all be corrected on the way out. Rare were the times he received visitors in the Ocular, and the last thing G'raha wanted was to spend his time alone playing the part of Crystal Exarch, leading to at least the glamour magic passing over him upon every exit.

_Time to behave like a decent leader. Hopefully with it being so early I can slip in and out of Spagyrics without encountering many people. Although I swear Chessamile doesn't sleep either…_

G'raha's musings carried him down to Syrcus Tower's bottom floor and through the gates. To his relief only a small handful of souls wandered through the Exedra, a smile plastering itself to his lips preemptively for the impending gauntlet.

"Good morning Exarch!"

 _Stablehand. Around twenty years old. Thirty units._ "May your morning be well."

"Early morn to you sir!"

 _Shopkeep. In their late forties. Fifty units._ "I see you're getting a fine start on the day."

"I-it's the Crystal Exarch!"

The greenhorn Crystarium guard stationed midway across the courtyard turned an unflattering shade of red as G'raha approached his post. His shaky hands held a Thaumaturge's staff, which he fumbled with in an attempt to form a salute. "All clear sir!"

"At ease." G'raha bowed courteously, using the opportunity to scan over him. _Mage - young, but with high magical potential. Two hundred units._

Since fate conspired to treat G'raha's life as a game, he had decided to play one in return of his own making, namely "How Much Aether Will This Person Provide For My Needs?" As the two men engaged in an exchange from which G'raha was entirely detached, the Miqo'te summoned his typical justification for dehumanizing the Crystarium's residents - he couldn't save the First anyway, so they might as well find purpose in his plans.

"Oh!" The guard finally did as he was bade, the wooden staff coming to rest, disarmed by the Crystal Exarch's friendly demeanor. "Chessamile mentioned that if you came this way to tell you Spagyrics has an unexpected guest, so it might be busier than normal."

 _Just what I need…_ G'raha mentally groaned. "Thank you for informing me. Be safe."

Leaving a swooning man in his wake failed to register with G'raha's now busy mind. Word of a guest who wasn't worthy of immediately notifying him piqued his long neglected curiosity, hurrying his steps towards the small spark of excitement.

\--

"WAAAAAAAH!!"

An earth-shattering wail greeted him as he entered Spagyrics. A set of Viis ears bobbed above the group of chirurgeons surrounding one of the beds alongside Chessamile, and G'raha slipped in among them.

"There, there, don't cry little one." Murmured a Viis woman situated on the bed. In her arms she rocked a kit back and forth, the first to ever grace the Crystarium, though the kit seemed more annoyed than soothed. A tousled patch of fluffy light blue hair framed the reddened face of an infant who, if G'raha were to assign the look a mood, was furious at the entire world and the fact they existed in it, and took up screaming again to let everyone in their vicinity know their displeasure.

"What do we do…" Chessamile frowned intently, then jumped at seeing G'raha in the crowd. "Exarch! Apologies for not noticing you sooner."

The young Elf apothecary was the up and coming star of Spagyrics. The child of a couple among the original refugees to inhabit the Tower, Chessamile quickly earned herself a place among the city's healers for both her knowledge of plants and potions, and her quick wit. G'raha knew of her expertise first-hand, as she concocted the potion for his aether within a day, and remained steadfast in forcing one of the most powerful people on Norvrandt to drink it in her presence every time he requested it rather than sleep. Out of pure respect he kept his sense of taste enabled while doing so - she deserved his reaction, and he deserved the punishment.

So if a problem had her vexed it was difficult indeed. The tiny Viis began to cry _and_ scream, leading Chessamile to pull G'raha and the standing Viis woman away from the bed to talk while the remaining chirurgeons fawned over the kit. "At the stroke of midnight a patrol found the kit bundled up beneath a tree near Tessellation with a pile of belongings we can only assume were their parents'. Problem is, they're starving but we don't know what to feed them."

"Our kits have very sensitive stomachs my Lord," the other woman explained humbly, "and the milks and cereals suitable for other young will do little for a kit, if they even manage to keep them down."

"Knowing we have the only two Viis in the Crystarium here, it is apparent we have no appropriate wet nurses available." G'raha mused out loud. "Is there anyone in Sullen or Holminster who may be inclined to help for a reward?"

Chessamile shrugged in defeat. "I tried as far as Eulmore. There's none."

"And there are no known formulas either?"

"No..." Gesturing plaintively at G'raha, the Viis woman resumed explaining. "In our culture all kits are sired in the same cycle. With so many births happening around the same time there is never a lack of milk, no matter the circumstances. We Viis have never needed to feed our young anything else so no such formula exists."

That didn't sit right with G'raha. "I hate to sound inconsiderate, but are kits ever intolerant to milk?"

"Only the fittest are able to survive in our society my Lord."

"I see." It wasn't a productive exercise to offer a critique of Viis culture. "We will need to come up with one then. Can we do it before they starve?"

At that Chessamile's gaze hardened. "I'll try, but as you well know resources are in short supply, as is time. We can barely keep up with the steady stream of wounded Guards and refugees, and they simply _must_ take priority for the good of the Crystarium. Which is why I chose not to darken your desk with the matter - this may be a lost cause, and you need not concern yourself with the fate of a single infant."

"That is…" 'Correct' was the next appropriate word, and it left G'raha's lips as it needed to. With a small bow the Viis returned to the kit's bedside, their entourage having quieted them for the moment. Chessamile and G'raha fell into their usual ritual of administering the potion, and as the familiar medicinal blend turned G'raha's tongue into a focal point of despair while rejuvenating his overtaxed body Spagyrics seemed back to normal.

Or at least until the wet sound of projectile vomit accompanied by several resigned sighs led to renewed protests against the complications of living. G'raha stepped back, indicating Chessamile was free to tend to her guest, and began his return trip to the Umbilicus. The kit's hungry wails carried far across the Exedra, chasing him relentlessly, his feet picking up speed in an attempt to _make them stop_.

\--

In a blink the Ocular doors were closing behind him. Usually the faint glow of the scrying mirror and the rhythmic thrum of power coursing through the Crystal Tower were enough to steady G'raha's nerves, at least enough for him to stumble into the Umbilicus and take up a longer lasting distraction of his choosing. Today, however, he slid down the cool wood to rest on the floor, helplessness from his time in Mor Dhona welling up from memories G'raha had worked hard to suppress.

_Why can't I get them out of my mind? Why do I care - Chessamile has the right of it, and it isn't as if I hold the people of the First in high regard. So then..._

Images of the poor kit being given food it couldn't keep down over and over again in the name of necessity sat poorly in what used to be G'raha's stomach. He hugged his knees to himself, the crystal comprising his right arm reflecting light into his eyes as proof of his own force-fed meals, and gathered himself up enough to stand. _My notes...my notes can chase away this ache..._

Little did G'raha know what awaited him. Routine carried him across the Umbilicus into his familiar chair, preventing him from seeing exactly what state the room was in until something squeaked when he tried to sit.

The snowman had gained several friends. Decorations from what must have been the breadth of Eorzea, and possibly even beyond, covered every ilm of the room. Pumpkins and ghosts mingled with paper lanterns and cherry blossoms. Plates of what G'raha guessed were odango sat haphazardly atop his book piles, as did tree-shaped cookies, or what were trying their best to look like tree-shaped cookies. Paper folded to emulate dragons held sparklers, and reaching beneath him revealed an inflatable duck floatie.

"What is the meaning of _this_??" Was all G'raha could muster in the midst of so much chaos.

"Aha! You're finally back!"

A voice came from above him. "It took you so long to find my surprise, _and_ you didn't accept my gift, but I'll forgive you [caretaker of fate]."

Fear the likes of which G'raha hadn't felt in decades ran through him. "H-!"

Tiny hands slapped his lips shut, the arms attached to them blocking his view from atop his head. Their owner flipped over him afterward, a small, winged figure colored in pinks and oranges orienting themselves in mid-air with said arms now folded, pouting. "And not even a 'thank you' from my friend either. When I found so many lovely gifts on your world simply waiting for me to bring you I thought everyone there very kind, but perhaps not, hmph!"

"This is it. I have fully broken." Everything happening was too surreal - it was the only explanation. "The Crystal Tower has made my delusions manifest, and now the time has come for me to live with my senses betraying me at last. I imagined it being more disturbing but..."

G'raha giggled deliriously and reached for the floating figure. Their pout turned to annoyance as he squished and stretched their face between his hands. "How cute. And the sensory feedback is incredibly realistic. This feels like how I might imagine a real pixie."

"Thish ish not your imaginashun!"

_Smack!_

"Oww!!" Yelping, G'raha jumped backward, his cheeks stinging from having been clapped in response.

"My name is Feo Ul, and I am a real pixie, thank you _very_ much!" Their cross demeanor eased as they took back up floating in front of G'raha. "But I suppose you _would_ be surprised wouldn't you - I didn't do the ritual of your world correctly! So..."

They spun in place happily, hands clasped and trails of their magic tinkling softly. "Happy Starlight!"

Silence fell between them. Feo Ul's ecstatic grin held as G'raha slowly processed it all - the state of the Umbilicus, the errant pixie not only inside the Tower but also professing familiarity with him, and last but certainly not least, their declaration they had traveled to the Source. Knowing what he did of pixies he surmised that had Feo Ul intended to do him harm they wouldn't be putting on such an elaborate showing, meaning they were likely amenable to conversing.

And besides, how long had it been since he last heard those two simple words?

"Happy Starlight Feo Ul." G'raha replied at last, the tension leaving his overburdened shoulders with an exhaled breath. "You have certainly made my study much more…festive."

"Do you like it? I worked so very hard to decorate for you!" The overjoyed pixie surveyed their work with pride. Their gaze stopped on a nearby plate of cookies, dashing over to bring it back for G'raha. "Here here, I made them myself!"

"Why thank you," he started, biting into the cookie without hesitation. Feo Ul lit up watching it go down.

It tasted of chicken.

For the first time G'raha was glad for the control over his senses, as he could continue without hurting Feo Ul's feelings. When he finished, to his guest's approval, he decided to appeal to their ego and uncover some answers. "If I may ask my friend, where did you obtain all these wonderful baubles?"

"On my trip to your world to get them for you so I could help you celebrate of course!" Feo Ul gushed in excitement, their gossamer wings nearly impossible to see for how quickly they fluttered. "How long I've watched and read alongside you whenever I came to visit. That's how I always find you - reading, watching, and reading! But when I first visited you were sad about something called 'Starlight', which to me sounded as though it should be fun. Imagine my surprise at discovering from your strange aether you came from a completely different world, and that I could travel there! I simply _had_ to go, even though it meant being gone from here for a while!"

They rubbed their hands together, a greedy grin spreading over their cherubic features. "All this is mine and mine alone, including you!"

 _I hope that isn't as ominous as it sounds._ "You won't tell anyone where I'm from then?"

"Of-course-not!" Feo Ul punctuated each word with a jab to G'raha's nose. "Not only would that let everyone else in on _my_ fun, wouldn't it ruin your plans?"

G'raha's head was spinning. Maybe it was the chicken cookies. "Which plans do you mean?"

"The ones to turn everyone in Norvrandt into aether so you can hide away with your lover!"

The pixie suddenly grew concerned, placing their hands to G'raha's faintly stinging cheeks. "Are you unwell? You look so pale. Is that why you didn't take your gift? When I made it back and looked through your new shiny writings it said Viis had the most aether, and while it's _actually_ we pixies who would be the best at that, I thought you'd like one, to help."

"Although," their voice softened, "I would be happy to come with you. Since I can go to and fro I could bring you plenty more trinkets _and_ see if it's safe for you to return to your home without you having to worry."

Now a full headache roared inside G'raha's ringing head. Every word coming out of Feo Ul seemed nonsensical, except the Umbilicus' current state was proof they were being truthful. "So if I may summarize: you visited me at least a year ago at this time, learned I came from another world, travelled to that world, brought back ornaments, read my notes, and then brought a Viis kit to the Crystarium…just to cheer me up?"

Feo Ul nodded vigorously. "I did, I did! Aren't I the best and most thoughtful of friends?"

_Friends…though this is our first true meeting, and they've seen what I mean to do, they would still say we're friends…_

Tears pricked G'raha's lonely, crimson eyes. "The absolute best, Feo Ul."

"Then come on, let's get your gift!" Those ominous words came back to G'raha as Feo Ul, in a surprising show of strength, jerked him to his feet. "I even brought you their parents' things too. Poor fluffy couple ran from the forest to start a family in hiding away from the other Viis, but as soon as they did _poof_! A sin eater ate them."

G'raha collected himself with a sigh of relief Feo Ul hadn't spirited the kit away. Their angry, crying face flashed in his mind again, however. He _had_ to do something. "Do you happen to have seen if they were doing aught else but nursing the kit before they passed?" As expected, the pixie indicated they had not. "Then we have an issue. There are no Viis we can find able to provide milk and no known substitutes to feed them."

_Smack!_

"Oww!!"

Feo Ul motioned angrily around the room. "You have all these books, those funny colored blocks I always see you reading, _and_ the curious device outside that you're using for your plans. Use all of them to figure out how to _save your gift!_ " They stomped their foot, screeching the last few words.

Though G'raha's cheeks and what simulated his hearing both rang, he wanted to add kicking himself to his current discomfort. "You are exactly right." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The people who built this tower were known for conquering nations and performing experiments on living beings. Viis are scarce on my world as well, making it all the more likely they sought some out and attempted to raise their young by scientific means. Let me check the Tower's catalog for any relevant information - this may take a while, if you wanted to do something more exciting until I finished."

"What could be more exciting than helping my friend? Oh happy day!" Feo Ul pushed G'raha back into the chair with glee.

As they flitted about the room admiring their handiwork, G'raha cast a sentimental glance at his snowman friend, images of him and Drisette celebrating in secret a thoughtful backdrop as he queried the catalog.

[Warning: Requested query requires more resources than are currently available. Please suspend any excess computational processes and retry.]

There was only one process running - G'raha's model. He paused it for now, leaving a reminder to restart it when his business was concluded, and settled into the chair while he and Syrcus Tower combed through the extensive libraries at their disposal.

\--

Three hours later the pair sat on the Umbilicus floor, piles of empty plates, unadorned sticks, books, and tomestones surrounding them. Every text that contained the word 'Viera' (a term Feo Ul was now enamored with) had been teleported to their location.

Unable to read Allagan, Feo Ul was providing support by cramming G'raha full of their culinary creations. So far the cookies and odango all tasted like meat, yet were also surprisingly efficient for bolstering his aether, if not suspiciously similar to pet treats.

"Here!!"

At G'raha's shout the pixie appeared inside the book he had cracked open, obscuring the pages. "What what what? Did you find something useful?"

"I believe I have." Gently, G'raha moved them aside to read. Taking the hint Feo Ul opted to hover on the book's opposite side. "This is a list of supplies sent to a colony with a sizeable Viera population. Now, if I use the colony's name to narrow down my search…"

A tomestone took the place Feo Ul had vacated. G'raha pulled up its display and quickly swiped through the stored data. "This is it! Allagan researchers separated the colony's kits from their parents, and in doing so needed to craft a formula to feed them. We found it Feo Ul!"

"Isn't it for ingredients on your world?"

G'raha was one step ahead of them. He toppled a nearby stack of notes, not caring one iota as they scattered every which way, to reach the blank paper underneath. "It is," he replied while hastily grabbing a pen, "but Chessamile should be able to find the matching ingredients here if I provide the properties they need."

The instant the last word was inked G'raha flew for the Ocular. "I'll return soon!"

"Oh no you don't!" Feo Ul blinked onto his head, clinging to his hair. "I'm hiding up here to make _absolutely sure_ you take your gift! And don't think your human glamours can best me!"

Their words barely registered. He gave the barest of nods, then rushed out and down the hall. Not even the spell could interrupt the wild stirring of his heart.

\--

Neverending light beat down on G'raha's back as he briskly walked towards Spagyrics for the second time in less than half the day. Unfortunately his position meant he couldn't run without causing alarm among the much larger throngs of people traversing the Crystarium. The guard from before certainly noticed him again, however, another blush betraying his admiration of the Exarch as robes brushed by him on the way past.

"Lord Exarch, is something the matter?" Chessamile left her station to meet him.

"Only that you do not seem to find your own rest-"

She folded her arms, brooking no further words on the topic.

"-but that can wait for another day. How is the kit?"

"No better." Though she attempted to look composed the answer visibly weighed on Chessamile, heavy lines creasing her young face. "They cried themselves to sleep after throwing up several more attempts to fill their poor belly."

G'raha handed her his note. "Try this. The people of my homeland concocted a substitute that should fit our needs, provided we have suitable ingredients."

The master apothecary fell silent, reading down the page carefully. "Yes, yes - I know what we need! These are rather common plants so it shouldn't be a burden to produce."

Leaving G'raha and Feo Ul in the center of the room Chessamile began rifling through the Spagyrics stores. "Here, here, and we're out of…let me call the botanists at Sweetsieve…"

In ten minutes water was boiling and everything was on hand. The process of cooking the various herbs and grains into gruel, then straining the solids out to produce liquid for a bottle, thoroughly held G'raha's nervous attention. As Chessamile capped the glass off with a nipple and they headed towards the nursery he clasped his hands together to keep them from betraying him.

One could forget the trials the kit had gone through watching them peacefully sleep in the nursery among the other orphaned infants. Chessamile sat the bottle on a nearby table and went to summon an aide, leaving G'raha and Feo Ul alone. Ordinarily G'raha would have waited patiently, but the longer he stood around doing nothing the more he was consumed by the need to do _something_.

Before he could overthink it he scooped the kit into his arms. Fortunately that proved enough to rouse them, sleepy pink eyes opening to take G'raha in. Now he could feel how emaciated they truly were he picked up the bottle with determination, and though he fumbled slightly managed to prop the kit up and get the nipple between their lips. They took on new life at the first draw, ears wiggling and feet kicking as they drank with zeal. Joy and calm both settled over G'raha as he eased into a seat, getting them both comfortable.

By the time Chessamile returned with help most of the bottle had disappeared. "Well I'll be. You can get back to what you were doing." She waved the aide back to his post. G'raha acknowledged her by inclining his head but nothing more. "They haven't gotten down more than a few spoonfuls of food without sending them back to us since they arrived. I suppose I'll get to work making more of your miracle formula and get the kit into the regular feeding rounds."

"I will do it."

The apothecary's eyebrows threatened to leave her forehead. "You'll…what?"

A satisfied 'pop' signified the kit had finished and released the bottle. Their sunken cheeks sported a touch of color, coos of pure baby contentment letting the world know they rescinded their protests for now. G'raha knew he would have become enamored by the tiny fighter even without Feo Ul's insistence. "I will take care of them. You have limited room in the nursery, correct?"

"Yes, but!" Chessamile sputtered incredulously. "Surely you have more pressing duties?"

G'raha swaddled the kit, promptly sending them back to sleep, and gave his favorite person in Spagyrics his most authoritative yet calm stare. "This, I believe, is my most pressing duty of all. I will set up a supply box with Sweetsieve, and I have already memorized the formula preparation with your help. By your leave."

A wry smile graced G'raha's lips, and with that Chessamile offered no further protests - though she might have been the more outwardly direct one in their friendship, she had quickly learned the Exarch's stubbornness was nothing to be trifled with. "Of course. If you encounter _any_ trouble I want to see you two back here. And you'd better schedule regular check-ups. Now shoo!"

\--

In different times, the Ocular and the Umbilicus were only two of the many rooms G'raha used within Syrcus Tower. Since coming to the First, however, as his hope shrank so did the places he roamed, forsaking his private chambers for endless reading and plotting in the Umbilicus. As sleep's sweet embrace was no longer needed to sustain him, what use did he have of a comfortable place to lie in its arms?

Fortunately time held no sway over the condition of objects within the Tower. Thus, though it had been decades since G'raha last set foot in his room it remained precisely as he had left it, not a single new speck of dust to welcome him back.

Feo Ul flew from their perch, settling on the side of the room's elaborate bed. Staying in the emperor's chambers had been an option, but G'raha declined in favor of more humble (and less gaudy) accommodations. Nothing within the Tower was permitted to be less than grand unfortunately, the "simple" bed resting atop a dais and covered with pillows and patterned sheets.

G'raha climbed up and into bed, lying down with the comfortably sleeping kit tucked in beside him. "Ah, no fair!" The curious pixie exclaimed in shock. They quickly took to lying on the kit's other side on their back. "There! I won't be outdone by my gift! Oh, did you do this?"

Constellations wound across the darkly painted ceiling. After realizing the night would never come to his new home, he had painted the space overhead as a reminder of where he was from and what he now had to fight for. "I did..." He answered, caught up in recalling how enthusiastic he used to be about his role and abilities. "To remind me of what was at stake a long time ago."

"It's lovely. They make me feel as though I'm flying in the skies of your world once more."

Feo Ul yawned, slowly stretching their arms and wings. "Speaking of which, spending ten years there has truly made me tired, so I'm going to sleep. We're making a room for them later, aren't we?"

"A room? Yes…definitely, certainly. Full of all the things Viis kits need such as...umm..."

His uncertainty was met with a grin. "All of them. I'm sure my knowledgeable friend already has plans for a bassinet-"

"…"

"-and toys-"

"……"

"-and of course, _plenty_ of diapers."

Had it been possible sweat would be running down G'raha's back. He hadn't the faintest clue how to take care of a baby - the only reason he had gotten the bottle right was thanks to instructions left next to the formula recipe. "O-of course, of course. You can rest assured when you wake you will be impressed by my creations."

"Hnn. For your first, what will their name be?"

A name. He'd forgotten his new charge lacked one. First thing that came to mind was the Allagan word for 'snowman', but while he owed the ornament a great deal for somehow bringing him to this point G'raha knew he could do better.

"Hmm..."

Perhaps the stars held the answer. Astromancy formed a cornerstone of Sharlayan life, the stars a constant consult for matters of import. G'raha was no Astrologian, his expertise lying elsewhere, yet nevertheless the vast quantities of knowledge buried in the heavens always fascinated him growing up. He lay on his back, faintly aware of his hood pillowed behind his exposed ears, recalling the various constellations and the stars that comprised them.

"Spica."

"'Spica'." Feo Ul repeated, the name rolling curiously off their tongue. They stretched again, stared deeply at the kit, then nodded to G'raha's relief. "I think it sounds grand. I hope Spica gives you lots and lots of aether when they grow up. Good night!"

They instantly fell asleep - G'raha would have felt jealous, if uneasiness hadn't beaten it out. _Right, aether. That is why I am doing this, no other reason. Them, Chessamile, everyone - the more the Exarch cares for them the easier time I have of it when I leave._

Spica's ears lifted slightly, the kit fidgeting about behind closed eyes. A few strokes of their downy-soft hair and drawing them in close to G'raha quieted them down again. Seeing the crystal of his right hand against the light blue gave him pause, in turn drawing his attention to how the kit's warmth practically radiated through him. Reaching out a bit further, G'raha pulled the sleeping pixie into the pile as well, mildly regretting the measures he had taken to stay awake in the face of such a comfortable scene.

And in the background of his mind a reminder went off, stealing his attention only long enough to be sent back to sleep until later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Perfect, perfect!" Cheered Feo Ul, Spica giggling in similar sentiment while G'raha carefully wrapped them in the sling and hung it securely from his neck. Adding a touch of magic ensured the arrangement would hold no matter the activity. "Off we go then!" The pixie cast their glamour and took their place in G'raha's hair.
> 
> Spica began wailing. Taken aback G'raha tried to soothe them to no avail. "What could be the matter?" He asked himself aloud. "Perhaps-" His passenger reappeared, and the crying stopped.
> 
> "Huh..." They hummed simultaneously. Feo Ul waited a few seconds, Spica remaining calm all the while, then disappeared again to the tune of resumed crying.
> 
> The weight of parenthood suddenly pulled on G'raha's neck. "We are best friends, aren't we Feo Ul?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *As a reminder, this is a copy of the chapter of the same name from "What Your Heart Can Bear Home" :)
> 
> Short chapter this time around :) However, I do have something fun - for the first time ever I've gotten a commission of R'yhuven! For anyone curious as to our (not seen in a while) protagonist you can find it here on my Twitter: <https://twitter.com/LeirinNoKoneko/status/1352435158117277696?s=20>
> 
> Also, I enjoy hearing from everyone who's taken the time to read my ramblings! Please don't hesitate to kudos or comment, or message me on Twitter - your happiness keeps me going!

There was work to be done while the newcomers dreamed the morning away. First, a call to Sweetsieve so G'raha could begin preparing bottles for Spica. It was highly likely they would be hungry again the moment they woke. Before leaving G'raha set up a monitor for the room so he would be alerted when Spica awoke and he needed to return.

Thus secured, the supplies were collected, and he set foot towards Spagyrics for his second task and third time that day. A small prayer went up when Chessamile's countenance failed to grace the Exarch on this visit. Instead he was greeted by the head chirurgeon, who having been apprised of the situation handed over Spica's parents' belongings without question. The leader's mask kept G'raha's itching hands from immediately diving into the hefty leather satchel, but couldn't stop him from speeding across the Exedra as fast as decorum allowed so he could review its contents in his room. He did spare a small quirk of his lips at his magically-inclined admirer also not being present - the guard was likely having a good day.

\--

"Hmm..."

Most of what Feo Ul had grabbed was junk: clothing scraps, random utensils, even part of a bush. _This explains their decorating sense..._ G'raha chuckled quietly.

But the cache did yield two items of significance: a bow and a set of chakrams. Each was clearly well-loved, the grips broken in and the wood and metal polished to a lustrous shine. They also bore no signs of recent use, a silent indicator of how swiftly the sin eaters had descended on the Viis couple.

Chakrams were outside G'raha's expertise. No force in the world could stop him from handling the bow, however. Eyes closed, head slightly tilted back in fond nostalgia, he let the wood grain pass beneath fingers what hadn't felt the curve of the weapon of his people since arriving on the First. His bow - loyal companion on his trek to Eorzea, bought at the last second before he left Sharlayan for Mor Dhona as in his excited haste he'd somehow forgotten his usual one - had been stashed behind the throne atop Syrcus Tower before he went to sleep.

Though G'raha's new abilities allowed him to craft any weapon he desired with aether, before he'd had to conceal his identity on the First he always used his physical bow. It was too steeped in memories to be replaced. Now it figuratively rotted away in storage, intentionally placed far from his sight out of grief.

A terrible longing settled into the crevices of G'raha's weary heart. Quick to be rid of it he shoved everything back into the satchel and sent it to the room he planned to be Spica's. _When they're old enough I'll let them have it. No sense trying to hide I'm not their birth parent. In fact, I should inquire with the other resident Viis to see if they would teach Spica about their culture._

The stirring of pixie wings drew G'raha from his musings. "Good morning friend, _yawn_." Feo Ul stretched so comfortably G'raha felt a bit jealous - since merging with the Crystal Tower he had forgotten what fully feeling his body was like. They flew to his side, a final yawn clearing the last remnants of sleep from their face. "Exploring your world was entertaining, but I certainly find better sleep where I belong."

"Did you say you were there for ten years?" G'raha tried not to sound jealous of that as well.

"I did. I knew from your mirror the days would be long. Yet they were a worthy sacrifice for our friendship!" Feo Ul clasped their hands joyfully. "Shall we go decorate your gift's room now?"

Smugly, G'raha teleported them to the vacant room without warning. Surprise quickly turned to delight as Feo Ul patted themselves over, found everything intact, and took up on his shoulder. "Just like I expected from the great [caretaker of fate]! Go on, show me _more_!"

That name again. Knowing proper communication was the foundation of goodwill made learning the fae language a top priority after G'raha settled onto the First. Understanding the affectionate moniker added a sting to its beautiful tones, but he wasn't about to invite hostilities by requesting Feo Ul use something else.

Instead he focused on the trial of the moment: how to decorate the room in a functional way that would appease his audience. A quick query returned several designs for bassinets, dressers, and tables, which G'raha selected one each of in swift order. There was more to a child's room than practicality, however, and for those touches he chose to continue the star motif.

"This should do it." G'raha announced confidently, one hand extended as he gathered and directed the Tower's neverending flow of aether with ease. In a dramatic shower of effervescent blue (absolutely not made more grandiose by the Tower's Administrator), the room transformed from barren to fully furnished and decorated right before Feo Ul's expectant eyes.

"Delightful, simply delightful! My friend is powerful indeed!" The praise trailed behind the intrigued pixie darting about the room in awe. Soft, sky blue now colored the walls, serving as a canvas for an expanded rendition of Norvrandt's former night sky. Under their watch rested the room's functional aspects, each item light-colored wood accented by Tower crystal with a reasonable amount of Allagan flourish. Not only did the crystal add color and light, but as G'raha was the master all objects imbued with the material he could easily keep watch over the room's goings on no matter his location.

All in all, G'raha felt pleased with himself. By Feo Ul's diving into every space they could find he assumed they were as well, but he wanted to hear their thoughts directly. "Is this to your liking?"

"Hmm, al-most!" Feo Ul declared. Fortunately they didn't sound displeased - to the contrary, they seemed further energized by the thought of contributing. "A touch of pixie magic and-"

In a wave of their hands the room gained several more decorations. Their presence coaxed genuine laughter out of G'raha for the first time in decades, a rainbow of large stuffed animals filling the room's corners and placed around the bassinet. Interestingly, G'raha noted the lack of soft toys within the bassinet, another clear indication of Feo Ul's un-pixie-like curiosity about humans.

" _Now_ it's perfect! Oh, how grand, how spectacularly grand! Fit for a..."

Feo Ul waved a finger in the air matter-of-factly. "Large source of aether!"

The room took on a chill. "Right. In this environment they will be sure to flourish." Suddenly everything felt drained of color. "I shall fetch Spica then."

G'raha mechanically turned on one heel and left. His hair tugged in the telltale sign his uncharacteristically quiet companion rode atop his head, something G'raha found himself not minding. _How long has it been since someone touched my head...no, not this again, not now._

Spica hadn't moved. G'raha carefully scooped them up, carrying them to their destination like precious cargo. They awoke, bright-eyed, not long after he arrived. "Good morning little one," he doted over the kit, loosening their blanket and being rewarded with the excited waving of tiny limbs, "and welcome to your new home."

"Daaaa!" Cheerfully, Spica took a handful of G'raha's robes, focusing on him intently as he spoke, then looking about wildly as much as their head let them. Few things could have pleased G'raha more - an energetic, curious kit that hadn't thrown up meant the formula was a true success.

But it _had_ come out in the second most noticeable way possible. The changing table saw its first use, as did G'raha's disabling his nose. "How ever did my parents suffer through this with a Miqo'te's sense of smell, hmm little one?" Came the rhetorical question asked of the source of the issue. They cooed a rather happy answer given the circumstances, and as G'raha cleaned Spica off and closed up their new diaper he grew suspicious they had a winged distraction.

"Having fun Feo Ul?"

"Why what ever might you mean?"

Alighting from G'raha's head, Feo Ul flew down to where Spica still lay prone and pulled at their cheeks, stretching them comically. Laughter bubbled up from the kit. Further merriment ensued, the pair entertaining themselves while the old diaper was set aside and a new bottle prepared. The crystal allowed G'raha to surveil them as intended, a very parental warmth lightening his mood watching the headstrong pixie also fall victim to Spica's charm.

Feeding time brought a reluctant end to their bonding. This time, as Spica ear wiggled down the formula Feo Ul hung by their side. "Are you also appreciating your gift?" There was no accusation in G'raha's inquiry, only curiosity.

Silence. Not even an acknowledgement Feo Ul had heard him. _That's all the answer I need then - it looks as though their 'gift' might be backfiring._ G'raha kept up appearances to not distract his two very intent companions.

[Reminder: Meeting at the Crystalline Mean in thirty minutes.]

The warning startled the color out of G'raha's face - being so enamored himself he had forgotten about his other obligations for the day. "I have a meeting I must attend shortly."

That brought on a reaction: disappointment. Feo Ul sagged in mid-air. "I suppose you must tend your garden from time to time. You will come right back to play with us though, won't you?"

"I-" G'raha's voice faltered. He couldn't leave Spica with Feo Ul for hours, not because he thought the pixie neglectful, but because their diminutive size would make it impossible to care for Spica's basic needs. "I will be bringing Spica with me. You can come if you like, but I am afraid you may find the topic for discussion much too dry."

"Dry? _Dry_?" They repeated as if G'raha had asked them to grow a second head. "You are inviting me, your best friend in this entire world, to watch you plant and tend and prune your precious flowers? I, the most beautiful and resourceful of all pixies, would be full glad to take part in your gentle watering."

The gardening allusions were really starting to get under G'raha's skin, crystal and all. _I am no caretaker by choice...would that I could burn this fetid field I have been forced to plow sooner rather than later._

G'raha collected himself and bowed to Feo Ul. "My apologies. Now to...err..."

An unforeseen dilemma stared at G'raha with trusting pink eyes. How was he supposed to wield both his staff and his charge? Not that carrying the kit alongside the symbol of his station would pose an issue as a matter of strength - before merging with the Crystal Tower his martial training had him plenty strong, and after the aether only served to strengthen him further. But he didn't feel carrying Spica under his arm as a melon was in anyone's best interest.

Then his clothing came to mind. Confidently he conjured another item to the awe of his audience, the cloth sling in fabrics made to match the Crystal Exarch's robes appearing in his hands. "Here we go."

"Perfect, perfect!" Cheered Feo Ul, Spica giggling in similar sentiment while G'raha carefully wrapped them in the sling and hung it securely from his neck. Adding a touch of magic ensured the arrangement would hold no matter the activity. "Off we go then!" The pixie cast their glamour and took their place in G'raha's hair.

Spica began wailing. Taken aback G'raha tried to soothe them to no avail. "What could be the matter?" He asked himself aloud. "Perhaps-" His passenger reappeared, and the crying stopped.

"Huh..." They hummed simultaneously. Feo Ul waited a few seconds, Spica remaining calm all the while, then disappeared again to the tune of resumed crying.

The weight of parenthood suddenly pulled on G'raha's neck. "We are best friends, aren't we Feo Ul?"

\--

Minutes later the Crystal Exarch confidently strode across the Exedra. In his right hand he bore an ornate staff model modeled after those of the Allagan scholar-kings of his distant home - a symbol of knowledge, and of the power he commanded both through the Crystal Tower and his presence. And just as symbolically, around his neck he bore a single Viis kit, lovingly wrapped tight to his chest, an unmoving, unblinking pink and orange form tucked in alongside them.

"S-sir Exarch!" A Galdjent man passing by stopped in his tracks at the sight of the kit. His formerly drawn face eased upon observing their happiness, but his eyes widened further at G'raha's other charge. "I never knew you had a child! And is this toy modeled after a...pixie?"

G'raha tried to stop him and failed. The man reached out, taking the 'toy' by the face and pinching its cheeks. "It feels so real! My son would love one of these."

"I will have to talk another time I am afraid." Panicking, G'raha cut the conversation short and scuttled away. He pat Feo Ul as an apology, putting the frozen smile of Spica's guardian back on their face. "I need only arrive at the aetheryte and-"

Gasps rang out from the small crowd of people who inherently gathered around the city's transportation crystals at G'raha's approach. They collectively began fawning over Spica, then the lifelike pixie accompanying them. G'raha placated the admirers, and the once more recurring reminder about his work, as quickly as possible for all their sakes lest Feo Ul express their displeasure at being manhandled. But as Spica continued to bask in the attention G'raha cracked a smile in anticipation of the upcoming chaos, today and in the future.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder - this chapter is part of the story _What Your Heart Can Bear Home_ : https://archiveofourown.org/works/25937233/chapters/72722835

As a young man hungry for knowledge and bearing the burden of an entire civilization's legacy on his shoulders, parenthood had barely crossed G'raha's mind. The Allagan blood in his line had waned so far it was highly unlikely he could pass it on to kittens of his own, leaving his scholarly appetite as the best means to see that legacy fulfilled.

And like so much in the scholar's life, fate had seen him down an unlikely path. Spica's well-being gradually became G'raha's own became as the rambunctious Viis kit grew healthy and strong under his care. In their early years the entire Crystarium came to look forward to the sight of their Crystal Exarch carrying his adopted child around his neck in some fashion, a well-loved pixie toy always within reach to pacify them during important affairs.

When not on business, however, G'raha let Spica run wild, once they were capable. In what felt as though it were days they were no longer portable, and thus more in need of a sitter when he was occupied. The resident Viis of the Crystarium became some of G'raha's closest acquaintances, many of them overjoyed to take turns watching Spica. As he had hoped they taught the kit their people's ways, though they always seemed more drawn to the growing culture of their new home. It was no Rak'tika, but Spica flying through the sparse Crystarium trees to pick fruit, steal naps, or attempt to poorly ambush their adopted parent evolved into the pair's new normal.

At home they traded the image of parent and child for that of co-conspirators. G'raha was not about to relinquish his sanctuary or ruin his careful planning to care for Spica, instead teaching them early on how his appearance, Feo Ul's presence, and the inner workings of Syrcus Tower were all secrets they needed to guard with their life. Fortunately childish pride and possessiveness made this a simple task - sometimes G'raha returned home with them after school and found himself regaled by proud tales of how Spica had steadfastly refused to succumb to vigorous questioning by their peers about the nature of their adopted parent.

\--

But there was one area the rest of the world did hold sway. The day drew to a close - Spica had been picked up from school by G'raha and a hidden Feo Ul (Spica was 'too old to be seen outside with plushies!' now at seven years, though they suspiciously declined removing them from their room), and quietly completed their homework at the dinner table with pixie assistance. At the stove the evening meal came together, G'raha having fully adapted to the First's ingredients and his altered sense of taste after years of failed meals, including a birthday cake for Spica whose appearance and odor he tried very hard to forget about. Food was a tried and true way to nurture bonds, between himself and Spica more than most, adding an extra sting when he watched them try to choke back a vile creation to not hurt his feelings.

He checked his work, tasting the mutton stew made with less meat than he would have liked due to the continued war the Crystarium waged not with sin eaters, but food shortages, and finding it up to his standards ladled out a healthy serving for Spica plus smaller ones for himself and Feo Ul, bringing it all to the table. "Here you are."

"Ah!" Spica carefully sat their work aside to accommodate the piping hot ceramic. Along with Feo Ul they took spoon in hand, blowing off a heaping serving as G'raha sat beside them. "Thank you grandpa!"

Every thought in G'raha's mind deleted itself. Behind their utensil Feo Ul struggled to keep a straight face, eventually opting for shoving it full of potatoes as cover. "G-grandpa...?" G'raha tried to ask without sounding accusatory. As the years continued to drag on he grew more and more irritated by anything that marked the passage of time - the slow crawl of crystal across his skin was already too much. "Why the sudden change? Only this morning I was 'papa'."

"Because! At school today we learned that the Crystal Tower has been here almost fifty years, and since you came with it you're that old too, right?" Spica shoveled their cooled off portion into their mouth, chewed, swallowed, then scooped up another eagerly. "So that would make you old enough to be my grandpa! All my classmates say you act like one too!"

Upon receiving no reaction Spica's right ear flopped down sadly, however, ripping a piece of G'raha's heart out with it. Feo Ul slowed as the kit cast a forlorn look upward. "You don't like it? None of the other children have grandparents so...I thought it would be special. I'm sorry."

They went back to eating quietly, all traces of their enthusiasm thoroughly defeated. Though Spica was young they and their adopted parent didn't argue much, and G'raha had never found a reason to not support them until now.

Being the Crystarium's leader he always stood in the deep end of the gossip pool, making him well aware of his grandfatherly reputation among its citizens. For all that he grinned and bore it, the abysmally sluggish view in the mirror taunting him in his mind's eye whenever he heard it used, the title was always spoken with affection. 

"Spica." G'raha called them softly, taking their free left hand in his right. Dodging the veritable barrage of eye daggers from Feo Ul he turned a warm gaze onto his well-meaning charge. "If that is what you wish then, I will not complain."

"Really?!" They chimed in unison.

He couldn't help but grin. _Coming from them it shouldn't be unbearable...I hope._

The meal resumed, tiny fingers clinging tightly to his. Their ears returned to their upright and happy state, Spica polished off their food between curious glances up at G'raha from beneath their bangs. "Grandpa?" They finally asked.

Though what they called him now was different, G'raha knew exactly what was coming but played along as always. "Spica."

"Grandpa?"

"Spica."

"Gr-a-nd-pa!" They chimed in a sing-song voice.

G'raha's bowl emptied courtesy of Feo Ul, who also knew the game. Their head bounced back and forth between the two humans, their winged form wound up in anticipation. "Yes, Sp-i-ca?"

In a flurry of giggling Spica launched themselves at his lap as he pulled them over, Feo Ul diving in at the same time. They shared a group hug, one of many thanks to Spica's ritual started when they were younger, holding each other tightly in a show of affection not uncommon for Viis and Mystel alike.

As was also part of their unspoken agreement, only Spica or an emergency could bring the moment to an end. Not that G'raha ever wanted it to - he hadn't known how truly starved he was for any kind of physical affection until the first time he'd gotten caught up in a tiny, impromptu hug session years ago - but Spica eventually squirmed free to sit facing the table still in G'raha's lap. They 'cleared' the table, pushing all three bowls off to the side, and reached for their homework. "Now help so you can tell me a story!"

"Are you sure you want a grandpa helping you? I might be so old I have forgotten what to do." Retrieving the books and papers came accompanied by a playful tease.

"Wha??" Light pink saucers gone wide with disbelief startled him. "But, you're the smartest person I know!"

Feo Ul rescued G'raha from his shock by stealing Spica's pencil. "Not smarter than the smartest pixie in Il Mheg!"

They flew up to his shoulder, handing G'raha the implement with a cherubic smile that promised the rest of the night would be full of mischief. "But perhaps, just this once, I can let a mortal show me they know what they're doing. Go on!"

\--

As the years went on Spica only grew more willful and adventurous. Early on G'raha forbade them from traveling outside the Crystarium walls, a rule Spica begrudgingly accepted given the constant threat posed by sin eaters. He prohibited their Viis tutors from talking about their culture's martial aspects, and hid the satchel containing their parents' weapons deep in their closet rather than tell Spica of it as he had originally planned.

Once they had seen all there was to the city then, the only remaining outlet was the Crystal Tower itself. It didn't take a scholar to know there was far more to their home than the rooms G'raha had claimed before travelling to the First. But time and again he refused to let Spica go further than the single hallway.

And thus their secret excursions began. Aided by Feo Ul they began sneaking out after G'raha saw them to bed. Unfortunately for him, the Allagans hadn't taken into account pixie magic when setting up the Tower's internal sensors, allowing Spica to go unnoticed the same way Feo Ul had before they revealed themselves.

The day the pair eventually struck out too far and became lost was one of the worst of G'raha's life. Knocking on Spica's door to wake them for school only to find their room empty sent him into a cold panic, hands trembling as calls around the Crystarium yielded no sightings of the ten-year old. Combing Syrcus Tower's access logs yielded naught of use either, but right before he began a room by room search Feo Ul appeared before him, able to send themselves to any place they had already traveled to once, to explain. Together they retraced Spica's steps and found them huddled in the corner of a small, private library clutching a book that could have only been meant for G'raha to read them.

Childhood memories of his own disobedient adventures emulating the heroes who occupied the pages of his favorite books stayed G'raha's hand in punishing them...slightly. Once Spica's two-week-long grounding ended they were presented with a proposition - as long as they promised never to venture into the depths of Syrcus Tower, G'raha would grant them full access to its upper levels. A grand hug sealed the deal, as did several pats to the head of hair G'raha couldn't bear to see a single strand of disturbed.

\--

Now fully enabled, traversing the labyrinthine halls became Spica's favorite pastime. Over the years they acquired a passing understanding of Allagan, enough to pick books to bring back and identify what the various decadent rooms had been used for in the past. In a way their wonderment made G'raha jealous - he fondly recalled his own awe upon first making the same journeys, some alongside Drisette, and wished he could feel anything but resentment towards what now bound him.

But something far more pressing would come to weigh on him. In years that felt like minutes Spica turned twelve, thirteen, and fourteen. For Viis those were typically important years around which their young would begin towards adulthood, declaring their gender and assuming the appropriate mantle as such. Spica, however, had done no such thing, and their mentors began to worry. G'raha heard their concerns as Spica grew older without any signs, yet dismissed them as casually as a leader could.

For in his heart he was rather glad of it all, except perhaps the part where they were growing taller than him every day.

On their fifteenth nameday, rather than their usual celebration of having a cake made by G'raha and decorated by Feo Ul in the manner only they could bring, Spica issued sealed invitations to both their guardians with strict orders not to open them until that afternoon. They then scampered off, and while G'raha could have checked for them in Syrcus Tower where he was sure his charge made preparations, he wasn't about to ruin their surprise.

Feo Ul held their invitation for the entire day, small hands leaving creases in the extremely fancy foil envelope it came wrapped in. "If I have to wait any longer I'll simply pop!" They declared at lunchtime. To avoid losing their grip they'd petitioned G'raha for a sizeable apple on a plate, from which they hovered in front of taking bites. "What ever could your wonderful gift have planned for us?"

"I honestly could not say. To give _us_ the gifts on their nameday…I suppose they truly are growing older." Though the sentiment was one G'raha hated thinking about, today was more about Spica than his comfort.

Fortunately they didn't have to wait much longer. Once fourteen hundred hours arrived G'raha carefully opened his envelope, withholding judgment on how gold bits flew through the air beside him. "'Come to the Final Curtain at sixteen hundred.' I wonder what-"

"NOW?! Here I come!"

"Hey!" G'raha watched Feo Ul disappear, leaving only their instructions behind. "'Meet me at the Final Curtain as soon as you read this.' What _are_ you planning Spica?"

The Final Curtain was the last room before the throne high atop Syrcus Tower. R'yhuven had reported fighting Amon, one of Emperor Xande's generals, there during his excursion, but records from the Tower's early days described it as a private theater used by the royal family for centuries. It had been the height of an artist's career to be summoned to perform in the fanciful chamber during the Allagan Empire - these days, Spica used it to read when they wanted some time away from their guardians as teenagers were inclined to need. G'raha himself had spent countless hours reclined in trees to escape his Sharlayan benefactors, gladly giving Spica the space.

At exactly sixteen hundred hours G'raha teleported to the theater. Darkness greeted him, and he spun around checking his surroundings for signs of danger.

"Ready Feo Ul?"

Spica's voice reassured him. Dropping his guard G'raha waited patiently, but more curiously than he had felt in some time. Giddy, even, at what his adopted child had thought up.

"Of course I am! And - poof!"

Pixie magic surrounded G'raha. Normally he negated Feo Ul's random attempts to test his abilities by taking him by surprise, but today he allowed it, watching the aether loosely spiral up his body from his feet.

A spotlight turned on overhead, revealing Spica caught in a similar effect next to him, and with a small fanfare another spotlight shone down on a nearby mirror, Feo Ul's magic resolving on the two of them in a shower of color and quiet tinkling.

G'raha didn't know the figure reflected back at him. For the first time in decades his Allagan-gifted body wore something other than the Crystal Exarch's robes. Draped in scarves, an elaborate grey tunic accented in reds and dark blues, and dark travelling pants, the outfit could only be an interpretation of that of his favorite hero from Allagan tales. As a young child his father had gifted him a random book featuring the hero in what they soon realized was a series, and his parents would search high and low for more even after G'raha moved to Sharlayan. Syrcus Tower's libraries held the complete twenty volumes, all of which he had read to Spica either as a way to soothe them on restless nights high up on balconies as an infant, and to spark their imagination when they grew older.

_"What are you waiting for Raha? Do you need me to bring you more cake before you'll budge? Didn't you get dressed to go on an adventure with me?"_

The person G'raha wanted to see more than life itself beckoned to him from within the glass, sweet lips teasingly parted as one hand extended lovingly. The whole world stretched out behind him - untainted, limitless, holding its breath, waiting for G'raha to take the invitation.

Oh, of course he would, he had waited so long for R'yhuven to ask! All G'raha had to do was grasp his hand and he could go, he could-

_Clink._

Crystal.

Light played along the multifaceted prison entrapping G'raha's right arm, painfully dragging him back to reality, splayed fingers pressed to the unforgiving glass of yet another mirror that taunted and betrayed him. All that remained on its surface now was an imposter of a man who once existed dressed as an imposter of a man who had never existed. The cruelty of it put a smile on his eternally youthful face, emphasizing the jagged line of crystallized skin marring his cheek in an ever-visible reminder of his folly.

"Grandfather!" Spica bounced over to him, Feo Ul sitting between their ears. The reflections joining in served to fully dispel G'raha's fantasy. "Do you like it? I've never seen you wear anything but your usual attire, so I thought you might like a change before we left."

Slowly, G'raha closed his eyes, leaving the smile plastered on. "Where are we going?"

The cloth of Spica's outfit, particularly a bright red scarf, swished behind him in a telltale sign the Viis shifted from foot to foot nervously. "I, umm...wanted to see Lakeland? To go on an adventure, just like in the books."

This again. If stubbornness was contagious Spica had surely caught it from their adopted parent. Using the precious stories they'd shared, reaching out to G'raha using the language built up between them - they would have been joyfully obliged for any other venture.

But not this one. This was too much. "I cannot."

"Not even a little? Just one time?"

"I...can't."

Their surprised intake of breath coaxed G'raha out of his brooding. Disappointment colored Spica's reflection, but so did a reluctant understanding. All G'raha hoped was they wouldn't ask him to explain - the denial applied to a long list of secrets he held close, and he didn't have the strength to test which of his desire to keep them or his love for his child ran deeper.

"That's alright. Seeing you dressed up was the gift I truly wanted." A lie - G'raha knew Spica too well, and Feo Ul's trademark glare came close to cutting the glass. "May I ask for something else then since it's my nameday?"

G'raha nodded and meant it. A firm hand full of undiminished intent landed on his shoulder. "When you can, promise me you'll wear this."

"Without a doubt." He could at least admire the effort they'd put into the ensemble. Yellow tassels fluttered as G'raha turned back and forth, using the mirror for its intended purpose. "I do very much enjoy the way it looks." _Just not on me, not like this._

"Good! Then!"

Spica bowed dramatically. The room descended back into darkness, but this time they guided G'raha towards the theater's seating and had him sit while they did the same. When the lights came back the stage was decorated to loosely resemble Il Mheg and full of stuffed animals. Feo Ul sat atop a fake tree merrily kicking their legs. "Today you will hear the tale of how the strongest pixie alive, your beautiful friend, me, saved a flock of the fluffiest sheep from the jaws of hungry wolves!"

"I asked Feo Ul if they would put on a play for us, since you're always the storyteller though they love to talk about themselves." Spica half whispered, half giggled to G'raha. They gave his right hand a fond squeeze before staring forward.

Part of G'raha relaxed knowing Spica had anticipated his rejection, but he had a lingering fear this wasn't the last he would hear of it. Still, he squeezed back, glad as always there was one person in the world who didn't see his features as abnormal. "You truly are kind, being the gift-giver for your celebration. Happy nameday Spica."

\--

As the months wound towards Spica's sixteenth nameday G'raha's fear slowly began crushing him. Though they didn't let their concerns reach Spica's ears, the Viis of the Crystarium, now backed by Chessamile, constantly expressed their concerns over how the young Viis seemed disinclined to move into the next phase of their life. It was a struggle to not snap at the deluge of speculation as to why, not only because he still didn't care for it to happen, but because the conversations inevitably turned to questioning if being raised outside their race was a significant factor. Purely coincidentally, after said conversations G'raha's head often felt a little lighter, and those involved often found their pantries in disarray.

It was more stress he didn't need as his charge pulled further and further away from him, however. Remembering his own stubborn streak multiplying to an obnoxious level during his youth G'raha tried to dismiss Spica's behavior. But as their exchanged pleasantries grew terse and their solitary ventures constant, unease gnawed at the edges of G'raha's thoughts to where even Feo Ul seemed dimmer in his presence. The sin eaters who dared attack the Crystarium found the Crystal Exarch's hand much heavier than usual.

The tension escalated until, yet again, Spica turned up missing. This time it was for dinner - though Spica had taken up eating in their room, the trio still always spent the time G'raha prepared their meals together. He waited a half hour for them to appear, handing Feo Ul, who was no longer welcome on Spica's outings, a roll to snack on in the meanwhile. When exactly thirty minutes passed G'raha furiously stomped his way to Spica's room and knocked on the door.

It easily swung open. _Am I so angry I can't control my strength?_ He sighed, frustrated with himself. _I can't go on like this…I…!_

Though the room sat dark and empty, in the faint light from the door G'raha spied a memory he hoped would never trouble him again - the bag holding Spica's parents' belongings, haphazardly strewn in the middle of the floor instead of buried deep in the closet. "No..."

Rushing over, he checked the bag's contents. His heart dropped into his stomach immediately - the formerly overfull sack lacked a distinct shape.

Spica had left with the chakrams.

"NOOOO!!"

Feo Ul appeared before him in a panic. "What's happened??"

"They're gone…" G'raha wailed. "They've taken a weapon and gone!"

"Grrrr..."

_Smack!_

Today was clearly a day for repeating painful memories. Reeling from the blow to his nose G'raha backed away from Feo Ul, his worries mildly diminished by the sheer _fury_ on the pixie's face. "Perhaps you have forgotten as you mortals tend to, but I recall telling you to _take care of your gift_!! What a terrible friend you are to treat something so precious this way!"

"I will not hesitate to use everything at my disposal to find them this time." Fists clenched, the scrape of crystal against crystal combining with the throbbing pain in his face to help him focus, G'raha checked Syrcus Tower's access logs and found no record of doors being opened. "They are not within the Tower - I doubt the Guard would have let Spica leave out the front gate, but they may have seen them around the Crystarium."

His inquiries with the Crystarium Guard turned up short as well, however. The trench around the base of Syrcus Tower ensured the main entryway was the only way out by foot, sending G'raha to the Amaro Launch to check their records and their stables in search of rented or stolen transportation. Coming up empty handed yet again sent the Exarch and his still angry companion rushing back to the doors of the Crystal Tower. G'raha steeled himself for losing more of his body to fuel a Norvrandt-wide scan for Spica in a desperate last-ditch effort.

"Wait." An odd breeze, likely imperceptible by anyone else, blew across G'raha's skin. The fusion of crystal to flesh made for heightened sensitivity where they met, and it was there the gently moving, aether-heavy air tickled him. "Something is amiss here. Perhaps…"

He approached the wall directly across from the two large doors. Once their work was completed the Ironworks and G'raha sealed the lower levels of Syrcus Tower to keep saboteurs out, and to keep the various nightmarish Allagan experiments they had to trap while they worked _in_. Crash landing the Crystal Tower on the First had broken part of the seal and loosed an unfortunate amount of creatures upon Norvrandt, but G'raha had made absolutely sure it was resealed after taking in refugees so long ago. _If any air is coming from here it can only mean one thing._

"Feo Ul, can you check this wall for cracks with your magic?"

They looked ready to tell him 'no'. Wanting to honor a request from their friend, regardless of being on bad terms at the moment, won in the end, and they waved a reluctant hand over the engraved stone. Magic settled into the depressions of Allagan script, as well as the square outline of a single tile in the corner. "What's that?"

There was no time for panicking now. G'raha rushed over, grabbing the heavy stone and ripping it free in a single motion. The rock cracked and crumbled beneath his full strength, unfettered in the face of what G'raha now knew he faced. "A way into the basement."

Unstable aether poured out of the exposure. It posed no problem to humans, but G'raha moved to catch Feo Ul as they limply fell from the air. "Do not worry my friend. I swear on my life I will do as you asked."

"You'd better…" Complaining weakly, the pixie struggled to sit upright. "Or else I will _never_ forgive you." They coughed.

G'raha gave Feo Ul a parting nod before sending them to his chambers. Now fully alone for the first time in a while, he drew in a deep breath, pushed up his sleeves, and crawled through the newly-revealed passage hoping he wasn't too late.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All done! As a reminder, this chapter is part of the story _What Your Heart Can Bear Home_ : https://archiveofourown.org/works/25937233/chapters/73600137

Things were nothing like G'raha remembered them from the Source. Tainted and warped by the journey through the Rift, the aether swirling inside Syrcus Tower's lower levels cast a sickly green hue over the culmination of the Ironworks' efforts. Containers and machinery occupied every nook and cranny of the space that held the beating heart of the Tower, but what once stood as a testament to the ingenuity of a dying world now bore a greater resemblance to the scales of a hideous beast, cabling strangling it in serpentine coils.

The access platforms remained intact and active despite the rest of the damage, and through them G'raha saw a clear path to where Spica had gone. He rushed across the path of active teleporters, following the brightly lit spiral down into the depths. Broken specimen containers littered the path but gave G'raha little pause, as the dried preservation fluid around them was evidence they had been opened long before this day.

That reassurance lasted a mere few minutes. Faint sounds of breaking glass and roars reached G'raha's ears. He pushed himself to move faster, to use his curse for something more than preserving himself, everything passing by in a blur as he ran further in.

On a large platform beneath him stood Spica, surrounded by a number of frenzied beasts. G'raha crouched, poised to leap down and join in, when in a whirl of motion too far away for him to make out clearly several of Spica's assailants dropped to the floor.

And before their corpses fell completely still Spica turned to a bank of nearby containers and deliberately shattered them.

_WHY??_ G'raha asked himself as he joined the fray, landing on all fours and rising to face the murderous throng not with the Crystal Exarch's manufactured calm, but a parent's determination. "Spica, get back!" He ordered them.

"Absolutely NOT!" Roaring in anger, the young Viis threw their chakrams indiscriminately. G'raha watched in shock and horror as they spun about in the adventuring outfit they'd designed for their past nameday, rage contorting their face as they freed experiment after experiment while screaming like a wounded animal. "GET AWAY FROM ME!!"

With that they ran away to the next platform. Denied their prey, everything left behind turned on G'raha. He was still reeling from the unprecedented display, however, and cast a powerful spell to dispose of it all quickly and give chase.

Glass, metal, and rock violently blew past him, only G'raha's well-honed instinct to throw up a shield protecting him from the blast. Around him the usually steady shield rippled and contorted - serving its purpose but irregularly so - and past that nothing remained of his assailants or the floor they once stood on, only a smoking hole. _Being this close to the Crystal Tower's energy stream and within this tainted aether...it must be affecting my ability to regulate my own aether usage. If I'm not careful I could kill myself, or worse, destroy part or all of Syrcus Tower._

That dire thought added to all the rest G'raha hurried on. Spica was already well into loosing a new violent menagerie, moving ever closer to a massive container G'raha knew held something neither of them wanted running rampant. "Please, stop this! I will dispatch these monsters and then we can return home and talk!"

Spica evaded a flurry of clawed swipes with oddly practiced ease, but didn't slow down. "I can handle these myself like I have been for months," they yelled back at him, only a few fulms from the impending doom, "and I don't!! Need!"

They threw the switch to open the container, turning to face G'raha indignantly. "YOU!! Huh...?"

The declaration died on their lips the same moment time stood still for G'raha. Two large, powerful forelegs dropped around the Viis, saliva dripping from an oversized tongue lolling out of hungry jaws, horned head dipping down to gore a nearby beast and fling it into its waiting maw.

"An alpha zaghnal - move away from its front!"

When the hulking beast's shadow kept Spica pinned in place G'raha leapt into them, rolling them both through the zaghnal's legs back to its tail, and most importantly, out of its line of sight. As they scrambled to their feet it pounced a crowd of fellow experiments to continue feeding.

"We have to get rid of it before it wreaks havoc on the inside of the Tower and makes its way into the Crystarium." 

"I know, I know!" Frustrated, Spica gripped their chakrams tight enough for the leather to protest. "Go ahead - fell my failure in a wave of your hand. Continue to be disappointed in me for being too weak to solve my own problems."

"What? I-" Now that he knew the cause of Spica's misbehavior G'raha wanted nothing more than to comfort them. "Later. Unfortunately, my hand waves are rather overly potent right now due to the aether here."

An opportunity presented itself from his misfortune, however. "I would like for us to conclude our affairs here with our limbs still attached. Would you mind assisting me?"

Uncomfortable crunching sounds signaled the zaghnal finishing its buffet. Spica took in the scene, their courage seemingly gathered in a moment that made G'raha proud despite their predicament, and slowly nodded. "Fine. If I can truly be of help, I will."

Afraid of what might happen if he attempted to heal and unwilling to let Spica be at the business of their target, G'raha formed his aetherial sword and shield. If Spica had thought him exaggerating out of pity, the worry with which they watched the normally solid manifestations crackle ominously, their outlines rippling same as the shield earlier, made short work of the notion. He rapped sword to shield, creating an abrasive lure for their platform-mate, and the zaghnal rushed towards them bellowing loudly. "Go, now that I have its attention!"

"On it!" With a Viis' agility Spica darted back underneath the zaghnal's forelegs, no fear freezing them this time, but a well-aimed throw of both chakrams clipping the monster's stride. They reclaimed their weapons once they cleared its other side, while G'raha suffered a negligible impact to his shield.

For a brief second the horned head swiveled Spica's way. "No you don't friend," G'raha tsked patronizingly, "your fight is with ME!"

Punctuating his statement with a spinning shield blow combined with a kick hard enough to not only stun, but also audibly crack the zaghnal's jaw, secured G'raha's position as its main focus. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Spica concentrate their attacks (again he noted their practiced form) on its hind legs and midsection, glad they had gleaned their best strategy was to exploit the beast's overfull stomach without needing to be told.

Meanwhile G'raha let his uncontrollable strength work to his advantage. His sword strikes landed fierce and true, carving deep wounds into the zaghnal's tough hide, while every swing of his shield served to disorient the beast so much it began to flinch whenever it saw his shield arm lift. "Almost there!" He shouted back to Spica.

"Here as well - yah!!" The Viis ducked a futile attempt from the tiring zaghnal to kick them, punishing it with a solid cut with both chakrams to its already heavily scarred belly. They escaped quickly as it made a final attempt to heave G'raha over its head, earning nothing but a stumbling fall to the ground.

_I'm sorry. This is all I can do to grant you release from your millennia of suffering._

As if sensing G'raha's sincerity the zaghnal offered no more fight, closing its eyes for the last time as an aetherial sword pierced its skull. Despite G'raha's best effort the blade also slightly cracked the floor, and glad he didn't wield a physical weapon he dismissed his summoned items.

"We won?" Spica trotted up to him eagerly. "I can't-"

Without a word G'raha grabbed their arm and teleported them to the Ocular, the only room he was confident wouldn't cause much harm. Surely enough they appeared in mid-air, each flailing as they unceremoniously tumbled to the floor.

"Ugh, I should have known!!" Spica growled in renewed ire while standing. They took great care in straightening their clothing, gripping the scarf in both hands. "Why would I be allowed a moment of triumph for an effort where I offered so little?"

"Spica, I do not think you incompetent." Came from G'raha as he dusted himself off.

Then he jumped as Spica aggressively waved their weapons at him. "Then why hide these from me, and forbid anyone from saying a single word to me about how to fight??"

Their eyes narrowed when G'raha winced. "Did you think I wouldn't notice my birth parents' belongings? Or how everyone around me dodged the subject, even when I held a set of blades up to their faces? Only you could command such loyalty."

"I will not lie to you. I did order their silence." G'raha hung his head.

"I was right then..." Sadly, Spica lowered their arms. "At first I thought you didn't trust me, but I know that could never be true. All that remains is that I am too weak…too weak to be worthy to wield a weapon…too weak to be the child of the Crystal Exarch...too weak to defend the Crystarium as he does…"

"Spica..." G'raha reached for them, needing to do _something_ to try and stop his child's self-flagellation with the whip he had constructed for them over the years.

They slapped his hand away, eyes dark and lips curled into a gleeful sneer G'raha hurt to see. "Do NOT use that name. Spica is DEAD!!"

"Ahh..."

The floor rushed up to meet G'raha again as he sank to his knees, all thoughts they might go back to how they were shattered. Tears began staining the polished floor, in whose reflection he watched their confidence fade as they suddenly realized the depths of what they had done out of childish spite. "I-I'm sorry, grandfather, I-"

"What happened??" Feo Ul exclaimed as they fluttered down to the floor of the Umbilicus, where G'raha had abruptly removed himself to for the safety of a heavy, closed door. Books and papers slid out from beneath him as he dared to ignore the proud pixie, instead staggering towards the familiar comfort of his favorite chair to curl up into a tight ball of grief in its corner. 

"Why is it..." softly, attempting not to rend the broken pieces of the life he had truly enjoyed living fully to dust, "that in the circumstances where fate lifts its hand to grant me a fleeting moment of choice, I..."

-

_Between the slowly closing doors, the Warrior of Light, the man G'raha admired and loved put on a wounded smile for their parting._

'One more day, can I not have just one?'

_Whispering the truths he had withheld until they would never meet again, G'raha watched until the gap closed and finality echoed off the walls._

-

_Under a bright morning sky, blades physical and magical clashed with a dying world's fury, only to yield to a mentor and closest friend's undying admiration._

'Can't I bring them with me, to have someone by my side on a foreign world, so they can live a bit longer?'

_She waved a fond farewell, playful and sad, and G'raha was whisked into the Tower having said nothing._

-

_"Oh, you know I'll be fine! I haven't come all this way to be done in by sin eaters now."_

_The headstrong captain of the Crystarium Guard clapped the Crystal Exarch on the shoulder at the top of the Exedra's staircase, the best fighters in the Guard waiting at the bottom to pursue the Lightwarden Philia._

'The Crystal Exarch has but one true friend - can I not ask them, order them to stay beside me and not risk their life?'

_A wistful, accepting nod full of finality followed by a salute, and she was gone. G'raha had duties to attend to, stepping inside his Tower to continue his normal day._

-

And now, once more a door within the Crystal Tower stood between G'raha and his regrets. "…I always…make the choice that leaves me lonely…"

"How arrogant a friend I seem to have!"

G'raha rushed to cover his nose, though his face was wet, to avoid another unwelcome blow as Feo Ul flew up and raised their hand. Unexpectedly, however, all that temporarily blocked his vision was a conjured handkerchief. He sheepishly accepted the offer and tried to clean himself off.

"Perhaps the years as [caretaker of fate], [tender of beautiful gardens], have made you this way," Feo Ul kept on, "but to think you have such power over others is arrogant indeed!"

The pixie settled onto the arm of the chair. "When raising flowers, the gardener puts in his whole heart - searching long and hard for the best soil, laboring for days to sow the seeds, and devoting his every day to tending them. Yet, in the end, do the flowers not dictate their own terms, grow when they are ready, bloom when the whim strikes them? Surely, they can be clipped and made into a pretty arrangement, admired for a time. But is it not true that though the gardener guides - providing a place in which flowers may grow bright and full, their lives the measure of his work - that, is what he truly seeks to leave behind?"

"What if the gardener hates the fields he has sown?" Finally, G'raha spoke his feelings aloud.

"What if the gardener is a huge l-i-a-r?!"

Feo Ul kicked him lightly in the cheek, folding their arms. But G'raha barely felt it, a heated prickle running down his spine instead. "Tell me, how are your plans to turn everyone into aether coming along?"

It was all too easy to call G'raha's bluff for one who spent so much time around his work. For nearly sixteen years now his model had sat untouched, hundreds of unacknowledged reminders occupying the remote corner in his mind he had shoved them into. "And what about your gift?" Feo Ul kept on. "Once they were back to good health you could have given them to any of the willing Viis around the Crystarium."

"In fact…" they placed their hands on their knees, leaning forward to stare directly into G'raha's guilty crimson eyes, "a surprising number of new gardens have sprung up since then, trees and shops and fun places for the people to visit. Do you truly need those to accomplish your goal?"

"Of course I do. The happier I make everyone the more plentiful and pure their aether. A small sacrifice of my time and effort is a worthy investment for my future." The reasoning was weak as ever but all G'raha had.

Amusement spread across Feo Ul's cherubic features. "Are you prepared to sacrifice your principles for it as well? Could you say, watch a pair of injured parents, who would be useless to you, fall to sin eaters without aiding them, then take their child afterward?"

The implication behind Feo Ul's scenario intensified G'raha's discomfort, only serving to further make their point. "I-"

"I expect honesty from my friends."

He curled tighter. For decades G'raha had blanketed himself in the warm comfort of his machinations - a plan where he couldn't be lonely, a way to be with the person he loved. But being held in the true warmth of another had pulled it back and revealed it for the illusion it truly was. "N-no...I could not…not now, and not then...n-not ever..."

Sobs began wracking his tired body, the handkerchief balled up within trembling crystal fingers. "Since I was a kitten all I have ever wanted is to _help_ , to be as the heroes whose footsteps I've tried to follow behind. Instead, at every turn I find myself dragged into situations where I hold little agency, foisted onto the shoulders of others to fashion success while they keep me from the raging waters of chaos, and then forced to watch from safety as they slowly sink into the waves. I thought I could not bear it any longer - not after seeing what I must become, what I must almost make Yhuven become, the suffering he will endure at my hands..."

"And so, when I found a spot of happiness, of true happiness, surrounded by those with enough longevity that we would not be forced to part as long as they were out of harm's way, I clung to it as a lifeline. They have always had a warrior's heart...it truly _is_ my fault." G'raha sagged against the cushion. "When given the opportunity I immediately stole the agency from my own child. I took their future and my own, all because I am scared of…everything."

A light touch to his hair sent G'raha's head straight up. Feo Ul hadn't moved, however, the long fingers instead belonging to a teary-eyed Viis. "Ah, how? I thought, the door?"

He scrambled upright, nearly knocking the pixie over while aggressively wiping his face as clean as he could with his well-used cloth. "How much did you hear??"

"Enough," they inhaled deeply, slowly released it, and smiled, "to see how mistaken I have been for a long time. And you as well - you were not the reason I delayed my adulthood."

"I told you I was the best at keeping secrets!" Feo Ul flew to rest on the Viis' shoulder, puffed up with pride. "Not one passed from my lips into his ears!"

G'raha looked between the two of them. "Secrets?"

"Grandfather, I have confided in Feo Ul my entire life." 

The pair laughed lightly at G'raha's surprise. "What child doesn't have things they want to keep from their parents?"

All of G'raha's childhood came rushing back to him, granting him the levity to join in. "You speak truly. What kept you then, that I could not be privy to? You know I would have done anything to help."

"I do know - that was the problem. You weren't the only one who didn't want things to change."

They sighed wistfully, rubbing their arm as a distraction. "All the time growing up I heard from my aunts how taking me in brought gentleness and happiness to the already beloved Crystal Exarch. Chessamile always fondly recalls finding you holding me the day you brought me home. And there isn't a single long-time citizen who doesn't have a story of you attending an important meeting or public event with a sleeping kit slung about your neck, cradling their favorite toy. As silly as it may sound, I have always felt like a child of the Crystarium itself."

"Not being taught how to fight felt like a test to see if I truly was. When I found the weapons you left out I thought you were marking the start of my journey to adulthood, like the heroes in the stories you've always read me." Their ears perked up. "That's when I went to the other Viis thinking they were supposed to train me, and why it was so disappointing when they wouldn't - I felt you'd decided I wasn't worthy of it after all. I spent all my free time sneaking away to watch the Guard practice and repeating what I saw before I started training myself in the basement."

"I did not intend to cause you so much hardship, but I am proud of you beyond words for how much you've grown despite my efforts." A blush colored the Viis' cheeks at the compliment. "I do not recall leaving the satchel out, however."

They tapped one foot thoughtfully. "Huh. So you didn't put it there for me when you went looking for that old storybook?"

G'raha shook his head. "I must have left it out by mistake in frustration. I am still unsure how a book I had just read found its way to the back of your closet…"

Two sets of eyes glared at Feo Ul. "Sometimes you mortals need a good shove!" The pixie declared with no signs of remorse. "Especially wool-headed ones like you two!"

"Well..."

"Well..."

Together, they laughed. The last of G'raha's tension faded with it, placing the handkerchief aside to address the larger issue than his mistakes. "All that aside, today is a very important day for you. If I have not made too large a mess of things to entirely lose your trust, would you tell me what you decided?"

They turned a darker shade of red. "R-right. I have decided to live as a woman. And…"

She dropped to the floor so quickly she left Feo Ul behind and sent G'raha's heart racing thinking she suffered from a hidden injury. His fears were fortunately unfounded - she now sat with her head leaned against his leg. "I've wanted you to give me my name since I was young, so if _you_ can still trust _me_ would you do me the honor? You have time to think-"

"Lyna."

"What??"

G'raha cringed. "No no, don't be upset! I love it...I accept with all my heart. 'Lyna'..."

She closed her eyes and repeated it, savoring the sound in joyful contrast to earlier. "I am surprised at how quickly you had an answer is all."

"You have no idea how long he's been waiting to tell you!" Came from above.

"And what about _my_ secrets?" G'raha feigned annoyance at Feo Ul as they rejoined them on his free leg. "But yes, I deliberated for some years on the answers I would give on this day. If you asked…that is..."

Now he felt himself blushing. "Thank you for once again giving me a precious gift on your nameday."

Lyna stroked the edge of her scarf. "I didn't forget your promise." She then stood, tall and dignified as the hero whose appearance she emulated, dusting herself off. "I'm going to make a world where you have to keep it, just wait and see."

"And, umm..." She wrung her hands in a very familiar gesture. "I'm incredibly sorry about what I said when I was still angry. Spica will always be in all our memories."

"Hah. Honestly." G'raha stood to match, one hand on his hip as he looked up at his beloved granddaughter. "It was fitting. Spica left my world they same way they came in it - screaming to the highest heavens to let everyone know they refused to roll over and accept a fate someone decreed for them."

"Grandfather…"

"Lyna."

"You know, I'm too old for that game now! But…"

Skipping to the end, Lyna caught G'raha in a hug that nearly swept him off his feet. As always Feo Ul plopped between them. "I'm glad you made up! Because you're grounded young lady!!"

"I am?"

"She is?"

Parent and child both stared at the pixie in shock. "Don't you act surprised! You promised to always be back by dinner so you wouldn't get me in trouble and look at what happened!"

"I did say that…and we know how you feel about liars..." Lyna laughed nervously.

"Grounded it is then - I dare not object." G'raha hadn't worked so hard that day to end it with an angry Feo Ul throwing books off the shelves onto the floor. "I suppose you will simply have to stay inside," he started with a grin, "and deal with an old man who may know his way around a blade or two and have some space to practice in."

Twin pale-furred ears shot upward in excitement. "Truly?? You would train me? Ah..." Lyna abandoned the embrace to slap their cheeks as if waking from a dream. "You were so composed against the zaghnal."

"Because I was protecting what I love most in this world. Now, let us have our first meal together to round out the night Lyna - you have quite the day to look forward to tomorrow."

\--

Eternal daylight beat down on the Exedra. Normally the courtyard served as a thoroughfare between the various hubs that lie on each of its sides, but today it was packed wall to wall in stalls, decorations, and well-wishers.

The cool metal of his staff and the familiar weight on his head kept the Crystal Exarch aware of his place atop the stairs leading inside the Crystal Tower. On any other occasion he would be amidst the throng enjoying the celebration. He had played his part for the day, however, and not wanting to steal the show chose to take his leave so the star would keep center stage.

"Is it almost time? I cannot wait a single moment longer!"

"Patience, my friend. You know she will be here exactly when she needs to be."

Feo Ul fidgeted in impatient discomfort. Just when G'raha feared they might start mischief out of boredom cheering rang out from the crowd. "As I said."

Front and center to the staircase a wide square sat empty. Ripples parted the sea of people, forming a path into the solemn space. Some at the edge of the divide cheered even louder, some bowed, and yet others saluted, hands brought firmly to their chest, bright red scarves and capes fluttering with the motion. Eventually a single figure emerged from the crowd and stopped at the center of the square, not facing their supporters, but instead looking up towards the man who had not an hour ago sworn them in as captain of the Crystarium Guard.

For three years G'raha trained his young charge day in and day out. Though he fell somewhat short of being as harsh as Drisette, having the advantage of time, he was no less thorough or intense. They lived and breathed each other, mending the rift caused by G'raha's inadequacies and fears with the sincerity found at steel's, or in his case aether's, edge. And when the days drew to an end, Lyna having fallen asleep in pillows piled high on Syrcus Tower after winding down with hours-long dancing sessions accompanied by her grandfather's lute, G'raha returned to the Umbilicus with Feo Ul to work on his newest project - calculating all possible outcomes from his plan to save the First, no matter how miniscule.

Lyna's nineteenth nameday would be where they finally parted ways. She asked for only two gifts, and though G'raha grumbled about them because he had to, deep down he knew the truth: they were both ready.

First, he did Lyna the favor of moving her belongings to her new room at the Guard barracks (with some help). The day before she had said goodbye to the night sky of her old room, but cursed loudly and lovingly at being welcomed by every stuffed animal Feo Ul had ever given her.

Second, with no entourage to disturb them, G'raha accompanied Lyna's first steps into Lakeland, hand in hand. They basked in the beautiful stillness of Lakeland's unique flora and fauna for three minutes, then jumped headfirst into repelling a small band of sin eaters headed for the Crystarium. The Guard's only account of the incident came from the bickering of its combatants on their return to the city, voices heated as each accused the other of being reckless, only to simultaneously turn and defeat a straggler and resume fussing without missing a beat.

The next four years saw Lyna rise through the Crystarium Guard's ranks to become the youngest ever candidate for captain. G'raha made sure to stay far away from her affairs so as to not give the image of playing favorites, but by the time she knelt before her grandfather, accepting the conferral given with enough parental joy he had to ensure he could shed no tears, there wasn't a single of her peers that didn't fight harder when they saw the flash of red denoting Lyna's arrival. Though the scarf was non-regulation she refused to remove it no matter how often she was disciplined, until the item became so iconic the Guard's armorers incorporated it into the standard uniform as a combination scarf and cape that made its debut at her swearing in.

But the dotted red across the Exedra couldn't distract G'raha from the bright pink that asked him a silent question. He tapped his staff formally, inclining his head in acknowledgement, and in a dramatic sweep expertly executed so as to not reveal the exchange Lyna launched into a soaring dance. Sunlight flashed and twirled off her chakrams in as much of a show as her acrobatics, the combination working the crowd into such a furor G'raha had to shout to the second observer on the stairs.

"Make sure you contact the rest of the Guard if they get too far out of hand!"

"Sir, yes sir!" The energetic man saluted, fumbled it, and saluted again to recover. "And thank you again for the promotion - I've always dreamed of having this duty since we first spoke!"

"That was quite the day, was it not? And now look at her."

G'raha took his leave to the Ocular before the long-time Exedra guard turned gate guard could reply. Keeping the sound of thunderous applause close at mind, he slipped off his hood and approached the scrying mirror that had lorded over him since his arrival.

"So what now?" Feo Ul asked, their feet tapping against the peak of its frame.

Crystalline fingers touched to the matching surface, conjuring a nearly frozen scene of R'yhuven mid-battle. History had already written of his victory, leaving G'raha free to focus on his task. "If history must be unwritten, let it _be_ unwritten. Tower Control."

[Awaiting Administrator input.]

"Delete the currently held model and begin a new one with the provided parameters."

Faster than he could blink decades of G'raha's desperation vanished. Dozens of diagrams took its place, all of them depicting starting points for the paths he would follow, no matter what they might bring. Above him Feo Ul darted about, chasing the lights of the simulation as they etched out his fate, by his hands.

"Now, we get to work."


End file.
